


Willing To Be Had

by inlovewithnight



Category: Bandom, Cobra Starship, My Chemical Romance
Genre: BDSM, F/M, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-22
Updated: 2011-12-22
Packaged: 2017-10-27 19:11:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/299113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inlovewithnight/pseuds/inlovewithnight





	Willing To Be Had

Alicia doesn't do the corsets and vinyl look. Gabe asked Mikey about that once; Mikey looked confused for a minute and finally shrugged. "Thank God. Dude. If she had to put on a costume before she was ready to do something, I might get her confused with my brother."

That was weird on a bunch of levels, but Gabe had known the Ways for a long time. "I'm just saying, dude, how do I buy the whole dominatrix thing when--"

"She doesn't like that word."

"How do I buy that she has authority when she's wearing a t-shirt and jeans?"

Mikey never bothered to answer, because Alicia proved the point herself. Now Gabe gets an extra charge out of knowing she could turn on him and grab him by the balls at any moment, anywhere. It's scary as fuck and he loves it.

Absence helps maintain the edge, for him. He hardly ever sees Mikey anymore, much less Alicia. She texts him every once in a while, though, to make sure he still remembers his place. He appreciates her thoughtfulness.

He gets a text after Live With Kelly airs west-coast. _Look at you, on TV._

 _I'm a rock star, baby._

 _A little full of yourself._

He can imagine the tone and smile that go with that. It's been so long, his imagination might be embellishing, but whether or not it's accurate, it makes his stomach clench and his balls tighten.

 _Gabe?_

 _Yes?_

 _Are you full of yourself?_

 _Cocky. :)_

 _Lol. You definitely need to be brought down a peg._

She has no idea how much he needs that. None at all. _Time & place pretty lady._

 _Saturday morning, our house. Pete is not an excuse to be late._

He rolls his eyes and wishes there was a text shortcut for flipping someone off. _Be there w bells on._

 _Better if you have a belt on so I can take it off you._

He would totally be in love with this woman if she hadn't married Mikey first. _dirty_

 _& clear yr schedule for 3 days after. I want to leave marks._

He doesn't stop breathing; that would be a cliche. His dick does a weird kind of somersault in his Calvins, though. _Yeah?_

 _I know what you need, Gabe._

He looks at that message a lot over the rest of the week. Someone knows what he needs. If that isn't the definition of comfort, he doesn't know what is.

**

Mikey meets him at the door with a hug and a hard-on poorly concealed by the sweatpants he wears when off tour and freed from his role in Gerard's visions of Lycra. He's shirtless and apparently from a planet with no sun for even an accidental tan, and the blond dye job has been cut back to a crop of dark roots barely gold at the tips.

"Did you start the debauchery without me?" Gabe asks, resting his chin on top of Mikey's heard and rocking him back and forth a little. Neither of them is who he used to be, and maybe they never really were; they did a lot of lying in Jersey. But he's not ever going to stop having a soft spot for Mikey Way.

"A little bit." Mikey nudges him in the ribs and steps back, offering that broad, sweet smile that always makes Gabe grin right back at him.

"Mikey fuckin' Way," he says.

"That's what it says on my business cards. C'mon. My lady's waiting."

Alicia doesn't look like a lady. She's wearing a gray tank top that clings soft over her breasts and the swell of her stomach, just barely crossing the waistband of her stretched and faded blue panties. She's bare-legged and barefoot, toenails panted three different colors, standing on her tiptoes to get a box from a shelf in the closet.

"Saporta," she says, bouncing on her toes, and he goes over to help her without another word. The box has _Toys!_ written on top, with a stick figure that might be dancing. Gabe's willing to go out on a limb and guess that it isn't full of catnip mice and bells, but he wouldn't bet money.

Alicia grins in thanks and sets the box on the bed, then pulls off the top to reveal a stiff leather arm binder and a riding crop. Gabe's stomach does the cha-cha and his dick goes on standby. He'd hoped, but he knew better than to ask.

"Mikes, can you hold these while I say hi?" She hands off the supplies and throws her arms around Gabe's neck, going up on her toes to kiss him. "It's been a while."

"Two albums." Gabe brushes her hair off her face. "Three if you count Mikey's."

"I do, actually." She laughs and kisses him again. Gabe's always considered himself a prince of the kissing arts, especially at taking the lead on things, but he's happy to surrender to Alicia. She bites at his lip and sucks on his tongue, laughing a little against his mouth at the noise he can't help but make.

"You should come visit more often."

"I don't always need to be taken down."

"Ha." She steps back, looking him over. "You trying to tell me you know your place all of a sudden?"

"Three years," he reminds her. "I've learned a lot of things."

Something sad flickers in her eyes for a moment, then clears. She looks him up and down and smiles slowly. "Yeah, well. We'll see."

**

She puts him on his knees next to the bed, arms bound behind him from wrist to elbow. The leather is stiff and not really comfortable; it makes him want to move, to complain. Rule one: he can't do either of those things.

No, he has to sit still and be quiet, testing the restraints and watching Alicia ride Mikey's face, his body stretched out in a long, pale line from where his hands are bound to the headboard to where his feet slide against the sheets.

"C'mon," Alicia gasps, one hand moving to Mikey's hair. Her fingers twist and tug at the strands, pulling him closer against her. "C'mon, baby. So close. Just a little more for me."

Mikey groans, and Gabe's dick jerks at the sound. He's made Mikey make that noise before. It's different when Alicia's doing it, though. Maybe because Gabe knows she's going to do it to him next.

Alicia exhales roughly and leans back, resting her hands on the bed on either side of Mikey's ribs. Her tank top's clinging more tightly now that she's sweaty. Gabe wants to touch her, trace the curve of her breasts and her stomach with his tongue, taste the salt and heat.

But he has to sit and wait.

Alicia runs her fingers through Mikey's hair again, pushing it back off his forehead. She smiles down at him and rubs her thumb over his lower lip, wiping her own slickness from his skin. "Thanks."

Mikey's eyes crinkle in a smile as Alicia pushes her thumb into his mouth. His lips tighten to suck her clean and Gabe closes his eyes, silently willing himself to be good, wait patiently, not fuck this up. Fucking up would, at this point, be very bad.

Alicia eases off of Mikey and crawls to the end of the bed, where the riding crop is waiting. She spins it slowly between her fingers, smiling at Gabe. "Hi."

He wiggles his eyebrows at her. She didn't tell him to keep quiet, but he tends to when he's doing something like this, something where he takes off the persona. Kind of a personal test of his committment. "Not feeling talky? That's a change," she says, climbing off the bed and picking her underwear up off the floor. "I'm not saying I don't like it."

He smirks at her, but sits quietly while she puts her panties on and plays with the whip some more, playfully swinging it through the air and slapping the mattress next to Mikey hard enough to make him jump.

"You're cute," Alicia says, grinning down at Mikey. "Sit tight, okay?"

Mikey stretches his legs slowly, tugging at the rope binding his hands to the headboard. "Hit him really hard."

"Planning on it." She looks over her shoulder at Gabe and her smile gets wider. "Got you all a-quiver with anticipation, Saporta?"

Gabe crawls forward a few steps on his knees, turning his face to what he hopes is a seductive expression. The way she laughs, though, probably not.

"Gabey, Gabey." She steps toward him, tapping the crop slowly against her thigh. "I missed you."

He closes his eyes again, breathing slowly through his nose as he hears her step closer. She traces the crop down his back until it touches the leather binding his forearms together. His heart speeds up and he has to struggle not to breathe fast and shallow, too. If he does that, though, he's going to hyperventilate, fall down, and choke to death on cat hair.

"You used to take it so good." She touches the whip to his shoulder, then hits him hard. "I remember."

His head drops, baring more of the muscle across his upper back, and she hits him twice more, spacing them carefully left to right.

"But a lot's changed since then, hasn't it?" She taps the flat of the crop against the back of his head, ruffling his hair. "Mr. Big Shot." He takes a deeper, shaky breath, fighting the desire to curl in on himself and touch his head to the floor, giving his whole back to her. "Mr. Hot Mess." The whip cracks sharply against his hip and he rocks forward, breath hitching painfully in his chest. "Look at me."

He lifts his head, forcing himself to meet her eyes. She's smiling still, swinging the crop between her fingers in a lazy arc. "I'm going to wipe that smirk off your face."

And that's--yeah, that's what he wanted, what he wants. What he came here for, even if he wouldn't have said it that way. He wants someone to call him out. To not take his shit. His band does that, his friends do that, but they won't go the step farther and _punish_ him for being an insufferable bag of dicks. Alicia will. She's going to.

She slides the crop under his jaw until the flat popper is against his throat, and tips his chin up so he's looking at her. "You're nothing but trouble," she says softly, thoughtfully. "You never learn."

He can't argue with that. Not really. He does _learn_ , but he forgets as fast as he can, so it doesn't count.

She reaches behind her with her free hand, never looking away from him, and grabs something off the bedside table. "Open." Once he does, she places whatever it is between his teeth--the texture and the taste at the back of his tongue says a pencil--and taps the crop against his throat. "Bite."

He clenches his teeth against it and breathes, in through his nose and out through his mouth, slow and steady. The gag is good. Distracting. It'll keep him from biting his tongue and also from babbling like an idiot and begging her to rub his face in the carpet.

She brings the crop up and drags it along his jaw, up to his temple, across his cheekbone, finishing with a flick to the tip of his nose. "Oh, Gabey baby," she says, her voice sweet in a way that's all shot through with mean. "You're so much fun to mess with."

The first hit is a sharp crack on his left cheek, snapping his head hard to the side. His teeth grit down against the pencil and he makes a choked-off, garbled sound as the pain explodes white-pink behind his eyes. God _damn_ it.

She doesn't wait for him to recover, but hits him on the right. The pain's like a line of fire down each side of his face; he can picture the fast-forming redness around the impact and white where the leather met skin. He glances up at her and sees her studying him, judging if he can take any more, and he doesn't know what he wants the answer to be.

He still hasn't made up his mind when she makes up hers and swings it again, bringing the whip down hard across his mouth and chin. His head goes back and he bites down hard enough that the pencil cracks in his mouth. _Fuck fuck fuck fuck._ There's blood running down from his lip, he can feel that in a distant way through the solid bank of pain lighting up his entire brain capacity. He wants to scream, but at the same time, the otherwise-endless stream of bullshit in his head has fallen silent.

He hears the crop hit the floor, and then her hands are on his arms, warm and capable, strong for all that they're tiny. "Up," she says quietly, and he does his best to obey her. "That was maybe a little bit much, I think. Sorry. Spit it out." He does, and she slips her fingers into his mouth, checking that no shards were left behind. "Okay. Good. You're okay."

"Did you knock his teeth loose?" Mikey asks, tugging at his restraints. "I think you hit him hard enough that I heard them rattle."

"His teeth are fine." She boosts Gabe up into the bed and helps him stretch out beside Mikey, his head resting on Mikey's chest. "I'm going to get an ice pack for his face. Don't bother him."

"You're going to be bruised for a week, dude." Mikey shifts under Gabe's weight, frowning. "Can you move down just a little, man? I--thanks, yeah. That's better."

Gabe wants to ask how long Alicia's going to leave them both tied up, but talking is definitely going to have to wait. Possibly for a few days. She wiped the smile off his face _and_ shut him up. She's a goddess.

"Look at me, babe," she says, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "There you go." She wipes the blood off his mouth, runs her fingers carefully over his split lip, then starts placing towel-wrapped ice packs against his face. "Yeah, I got a little carried away. Sorry."

He shakes his head and moves closer to her, resting as much of his body against her as he can. He just wants to be like this for a while; nobody important, nobody pretty or loud, just a body in their bed being cared for.

Alicia sighs fondly, running her fingers through his hair. "Two hot guys in my bed and they're both completely useless to me at the moment."

"I object to that characterization," Mikey says, rubbing his foot against Gabe's calf.

"You be quiet." Alicia kisses the top of Gabe's head and points at Mikey. "You just lie there and think about your mistakes."

There's still no chance that Gabe's going to try to talk, but he raises an eyebrow at that.

"It's a long story," Mikey says. "And it's boring."

"I can do a short version," Alicia counters. "We have a washing-machine repairman coming at eight AM tomorrow."

Gabe closes his eyes and breathes slowly, in and out, letting their voices fill the empty white space in his head where the drama used to be.


End file.
